And What Is Halloween?
by Mirage Shinkiro
Summary: G1. Prowl and Jazz discover the oddities of a human holiday and discover each other at the same time.
1. Pumpkins

_Title: And What Is Halloween?_  
_Author:_ Mirage Shinkiro

_Rating:_ T  
_Warnings:_ mech/mech, a.k.a. relationships between androgynous and nonsexually reproducing but male-"pronoun'd" 'bots.

_Disclaimer:_ Transformers is the property of Hasbro, and although I wish I could make money off the TF franchise so I could be independently wealthy, I am not. Alas, I remain poor and am just borrowing the lovely robots.

_Summary:_ G1. Prowl and Jazz discover the oddities of a human holiday and discover each other at the same time.

_A/N, explanation:_ For the October 2009 challenge on the ProwlxJazz lj community. I'm going out of order, and I may not do all the prompts. The challenge limits us to 1000 words per 'drabble', max. Cross-posted.

I'm purposefully not reading anyone else's challenge responses until I've written mine. (I don't want to be swayed.) But reviews for them will be forthcoming later.

_**Part I: Pumpkins**_

Prowl stared at the rotund, orange fruit Jazz had dropped on the table before him. "_What_ is _that_?"

Jazz chuckled and plopped in the chair across from him, ignoring the curiosity of the other mechs in the noisy rec room. "_That_ is a pumpkin."

Picking up the oversized fruit, Prowl judged it to be roughly the diameter of his head. "And why do we have a pumpkin?" He frowned, considering the fruit's weight. "Are they normally this large and heavy? If so, how do humans handle them?"

"Very carefully." Jazz merely grinned. "Apparently they have contests to see who can grow the biggest pumpkin." He shrugged, the casual lifting and dropping of shoulder plates. "An' we have a pumpkin 'cause on the human calendar it's October, an' that means Halloween!"

Prowl wasn't sure how to phrase his inevitable question, considering Jazz's statement had made less than no sense. He stared at his friend, wondering what he could possibly be up to. That Jazz had ignored his introversion and admitted lack of social skills was puzzling. But the way he constantly found ways to spend time with Prowl was downright confusing. "What is 'Halloween,' and what do oversized orange fruits have to do with it?"

Taking the pumpkin from Prowl, Jazz leaned forward in his chair. "Halloween is a holiday where humans celebrate death!" He paused and frowned. "Uh, or they celebrate people who've died. Or somethin'. All I know is they scare each other on purpose an' parade 'round the skeletons of their dead an' threaten each other with vandalism unless they pay each other off with food." He straightened up and grinned again. "Doesn't make a lotta sense, but whatever, man. They seem to think it's fun, an' there are pumpkins!"

A slow, deep processor ache bloomed through Prowl's head. In an unconscious imitation of Sparkplug, he reached up with one hand and rubbed his temple. "So . . . you stop others from destroying your property by giving them pumpkins?"

"Oh! Nah, I didn't mean that." Jazz set the pumpkin down and gestured around the room. Hound, Trailbreaker, and Bumblebee had entered with large pumpkins as well, and the other mechs were now crowded around the three tables where the pumpkins had been placed. "On this 'Halloween', the sparks of the humans' dead come back from their Matrix an' terrorize them unless they give 'em gifts, or somethin' like that anyway, so they carve up pumpkins with mean faces to scare 'em away."

Prowl stared. And stared and stared. "What kind of belief is _that_? Skipping entirely the fact it's utterly illogical-ghosts may be a universal myth or archetype, but they _aren't_ real-why would you _celebrate_ the orn on which your dead loved ones returned to terrorize you?"

"I dunno, man." Jazz patted the pumpkin affectionately. "Maybe I misunderstood somethin'. But that's no reason not to participate! So let's carve up our pumpkin, 'kay?"

Prowl resumed staring and wondered if there were _any_ force in the entire universe that could save him from Jazz's oddball overtures of closeness. "And if I say no?"

"I'll ignore ya!" Jazz whipped a standard issue energon knife from his subspace and considered the pumpkin. "Should we make it look like Megatron?"

Leaning back in his chair in defeat, Prowl managed to smirk. "Is Megatron actually scary? Or simply strong, determined, and problematic?"

Jazz paused as though considering his answer. "Well, we destroyed the Exponential Generator easily. An' the Solar Needle. An' New Cybertron, the electro-cells, an' the Transfixatron." He snickered. "Nah, he's just a pest." He held up one finger. "I know! We'll carve it to look like Ratchet after he has to fix both Sides an' Sunny followin' some stupid stunt they've pulled on the battlefield."

Prowl laughed in spite of himself. "Now that's _scary_."

Jazz's smile turned soft for a moment. "Ya've got the most beautiful laugh, Prowler."

"What?"

"Nothin'!" Jazz cut a hole in the top of the pumpkin and began degutting it.

Tilting his head to the side, Prowl just watched, wondering at Jazz's words. Maybe if Jazz continued to pursue this strange human holiday, he would say something else that would give Prowl more data to work with. Or so he hoped.

Those thoughts were set aside, however, once Prowl ended up covered in stringy, sticky pumpkin guts. This pumpkin ritual was definitely not all it had promised to be.

* * *

_Postscript: to be continued . . ._

_List of prompts, mostly for my benefit, granted:  
1. Darkness  
2. Black cat  
3. Ghost  
4. Pumpkins  
5. Costumes  
6. Crescent Moon  
7. Orange  
8. Trick  
9. Spider webs  
10. Fog  
11. Treat  
12. Graveyard  
13. Thirteen _


	2. Darkness

_A/N, time:_Orn=day

* * *

_**Part II: Darkness**_

Prowl sat scrunched in the command center's far corner, listening to the sizzling and sparking of a damaged Teletraan I. He couldn't _see_ the spray of yellow sparks since his optics had been damaged by the odd weapon Soundwave had attacked with, but the sound was unmistakable, as were the muffled but telltale _booms_ and _whines_ of missiles and lasers from outside. With the lights and half the controls knocked out, Prowl had been relying on his infrared anyway, but now the darkness was complete.

Currently, there was nothing to be done. The entire base, save Red Alert and himself, was outside fighting off the 'Cons or treating the wounded. Surprise attacks were common but dangerous, and Prowl chaffed at being unable to fulfill his role as tactician. _I failed to protect Teletraan as well,_ he thought, angry at himself.

Before he could continue his internal accusations, he _felt_ another presence in the room. He boosted the gain on his audios but heard nothing save Teletraan's sparking and the distant fighting. Whoever it was had stealth. He lifted his doorwings higher, tilting the panels forward to pick up more information: air movement, vibration, and heat signatures. Someone was approaching from his right. Anyone using infrared would see him easily enough, so he decided he might as well issue an IFF. He pointed his rifle in the mech's direction. "I know you're there. Identify yourself."

A familiar chuckle graced his audios. "I should've known I couldn't sneak up on ya, especially when I saw yer doorwings perk up."

"You were trying to sneak up on me?" Prowl asked wryly, sensing Jazz kneel before him.

"Nah, just force of habit." Jazz grasped his chin gently, tilting up his head. "Ah, Prowler. Yer optics are shorted out, aren't they?"

"Soundwave," Prowl explained shortly, his spark buzzing oddly in his chest. An inexplicable wave of warmth rushed through him at Jazz's soft touch. _What is wrong with me?_ he wondered.

The hand moved to his left elbow, then Jazz was pulling him to his feet. "Heh. When I said our party should include somethin' scary, I didn't have somethin' genuinely scary in mind."

Prowl shook his head at Jazz's humor. "Is there such a thing as 'fake' scary?" Of course, Jazz had wanted a Halloween party, and with Spike's help, he'd been planning one. Also as usual, he was trying to talk Prowl into attending; however, Prowl's already faint interest in a holiday focusing on fear and death was, well, _dead._

"Good point." Jazz's tone easily conveyed his smile as he led him into the hallway. "Maybe 'fun scary'?"

Prowl snorted, but he suspected he was doomed. With seven orns left until Halloween, Jazz wouldn't give up on persuading him, so he decided to change subjects. "Where are you taking me?"

"To Ratchet." Jazz's tone grew serious. "I got concerned when ya stopped issuin' orders and givin' directions. We got 'em whupped, so I came to see what'd happened to ya."

"Soundwave probably achieved his goal," Prowl said, his processor immediately moving to the tactical significance of what had occurred. However, his mind returned to Jazz's words: Jazz had left the battlefield for _him_?

Jazz sighed. "I'm not carin' much about Soundwave right now. I'll worry about that after Ratchet takes a look at ya."

The words washed over Prowl with tenderness and affection. Jazz had been his friend for vorns, but recently he'd inserted himself into Prowl's daily schedule, working with him in his office, bringing him energon when he forgot to refuel, and even attempting to order him to rest. It was a care Prowl wasn't used to, and it made him feel special. "Thank you," he said after a pause.

Jazz squeezed the elbow he held. "No problemo, man." The cheeriness was back.

Something about focusing on Jazz's touch and voice rather than his facial expression and body language, which he was notorious for controlling, made Prowl reconsider his assessment of Jazz's motivations. Jazz was friends with almost everyone on the Ark, but Prowl was the lone recipient of his undivided attention and unrelenting care: the only one whose company he sought out, and the only one he couldn't be torn away from in medbay.

For a moment, Prowl's memory banks presented him with an image of a surly Sunstreaker refusing to leave his brother's side in medbay, despite being angry at him for his rashness. Even Ratchet's now-legendary fits of temper couldn't separate the twins when one was hurt. They had a bond, a love, that most mechs couldn't comprehend.

A love . . .

Prowl halted in his tracks, his processor caught on a single possibility, a radically different answer for Jazz's behavior, one he'd never dreamt of. He would have given much to have his optics functioning normally so he could see Jazz's face, but it was not to be. Instead, he turned toward Jazz, raising his doorwings so the panels would collect as much data as possible, and tried a straightforward tactic. "Jazz?"

"Are ya okay, Prowler?" Jazz sounded worried.

"Does it mean so much to you that I attend your party?" He kept his tone quiet, curious.

A pause. "I . . . Unless it'd make ya unhappy. I'd like to have ya there, even for a little while."

Prowl nodded once. "For you, then. Just not all night."

"Awesome, Prowler!" Jazz tugged on him, clearly ecstatic, and began throwing out party ideas again.

It was the response Prowl expected, and he didn't focus on it. As they resumed walking, he instead considered what else he'd detected: Jazz's body temperature had spiked a degree, his systems had sped up by five percent, and he'd shown an unusual amount of hesitation and unease over Prowl's question. Prowl was no expert on relationships, but he'd been in a few prior to and early in the war. Jazz's behavior suggested romantic interest.

Mystery solved. Now Prowl had to determine what to do.

* * *

_Postscript: to be continued, still._

_Thank you to the following for the lovely reviews: Carmilla DeWinter, BitterSweetDrug, rubyxdragon, Apocrypha Blessing, Aozoran, cmdrtekk, Jesus Luvs Everyone, Kaede Akira, and Yami-Yuga3. Also, thank you to everyone who faved or put the story on watch!_


	3. Graveyard

_**Part III: Graveyard **_

Living up to his designation, Prowl silently crept through the graveyard, attempting to track Ravage. The night seemed unusually dark, the thin crescent moon intermittently hidden behind rushing clouds. A harsh breeze thrashed the trees, making branches creak and dashing crimson leaves to the ground. In the distance, laser fire whined for the second time in three orns, announcing the battle in the field beyond. With a sharply slopping hill between them, Prowl couldn't see his comrades, nor could he return to them until he captured Ravage, who carried dangerous intel.

Prowl switched to infrared vision and tilted his doorwings for maximum sensory information. _There._ He whirled toward a mausoleum, firing his rifle as Ravage pounced over his hiding spot. The panther thudded against his chest, knocking him back a step, but he retained his footing and weapon, firing again as Ravage landed. The acid pellets caught Ravage's legs, and he howled as he stumbled.

A photon beam soared past Prowl's shoulder, catching Ravage in the head and causing him to spontaneously transform. Prowl turned to see Jazz sliding down the hill toward him.

"What'cha doin' over there by yerself?" Jazz grinned as he joined Prowl.

Prowl realized suddenly why Jazz always searched him out if he disappeared or, if he were stationed in the command center, stopped transmitting orders: a more-than-friendly concern compelled him to ensure that the one he loved was safe. Fortunately, Prowl had never known Jazz to compromise a battle doing so, which enabled him to accept the affection without worry. "Ravage is carrying Ultra Magnus' transmission on our numbers and resources on Cybertron."

Jazz's grin vanished. "Oh." He walked over to Ravage, picked up the cassette, and stored him in his subspace. "There's some information we sure don't need Megatron or Shockwave gettin' a hold of." He paused as the roar of jet engines boomed across the landscape.

"Looks like the Seekers are retreating." Prowl watched the six jets ascend rapidly, their thrusters crimson dots against the sky.

"I'm sure ol' Megs and the rest will be quick to follow." Jazz glanced at their surroundings. "Funny we should end up in a graveyard, huh?" His grin returned effortlessly. "Prime's okayed the party, and Spike's suggestin' costumes for everyone."

"I'm _not_ wearing a costume."

Jazz just laughed as they stepped over the gravestones, making their way back to the battle. As they walked, Prowl watched Jazz carefully, unsure what to do with his new knowledge. All the fraternization laws had been repealed early in the war, but the strategic handicap of having the second- and third-in-command involved was tremendous. Such a weakness could be exploited in endless ways, making any romantic relationship between them illogical at best. Still . . .

Jazz had titled his head to the side. "Somethin' wrong, Prowler?"

Switching back to normal vision, Prowl gazed at the smooth planes of Jazz's face, the glow of his visor. That strange, warm tingling raced through his spark, and he now knew what it meant. He shook his head, both at himself and Jazz's question.

"Well, ya could be a ghost." He chuckled, clearly teasing. "I hear that's a classic costume."

"Do I dare ask how one disguises oneself as a ghost?" Prowl asked, the banter easily passing between them. He wondered what it would feel like to have Jazz at his side forever: that grin, that banter, that caring presence. _A bond?_ he thought, shocked at himself. _But if one of us were killed, there'd be a risk the other would die, and then Prime would lose both his top officers at once. It's not a blow the cause would recover from easily._

"Well," Jazz was saying, "Spike-"

Without warning, Soundwave appeared at the top of the hill, glaring down at them. "Ravage: return him. Now."

Prowl and Jazz raised their weapons, firing immediately; however, Soundwave also lifted his weapon: Megatron.

"Slag!" Jazz slammed into Prowl's side, knocking him clear as Soundwave fired.

Prowl's processor immediately calculated the trajectory, and he screamed even before seeing the purple laser slice through Jazz's chest. He landed hard, his doorwing bent under him, and Jazz's weight crashed on top of him. He lay on Prowl's legs, unmoving, his systems unnaturally silent.

Offline. Jazz was offline, possibly permanently.

A black rage and despair detonated in Prowl's processor. Without thinking, he sat up and folded back his shoulder plating, deploying his cannons and firing the incendiary missiles as soon as the weapons clicked in place. Soundwave jumped, but one missile caught him in the hip. The other hit Megatron's barrel, exploding at 12,000 degrees Centigrade and burning through their armor.

Megatron transformed with a howl as Soundwave crashed to the ground. Optimus Prime ran over the hilltop then, lunging at Megatron and knocking them both down the slope. Ironhide appeared as well, tackling the struggling Soundwave.

Prowl was no longer paying attention. He held Jazz in his lap, staring at the darkened visor and trembling. It was the possibility they lived with each orn: deactivation. But Prowl never worked with abstracts, only facts, and until that moment, he'd never imagined a life without Jazz. He touched his fingertips to Jazz's cool face, then to the burnt hole in his chest. He pressed his hand there, trying to hold back the hot flow of energon oozing out. "Don't," he whispered. "Don't die."

Jazz was still losing energon, his systems completely shut down, and Prowl cursed himself for not understanding the nature of their feelings sooner. _Why does it take a tragedy for us to act?_ he thought, hating himself. Throwing open his comm. link, he didn't bother to hide his panic. ::Ratchet! Get to the graveyard _now_. Potential spark injury!::

A curse was his reply, but Prowl ignored that as well, gently hugging Jazz's body against his own. Oblivious to the cold wind and creaking trees, he sat among the gravestones and prayed that he would not have to bury Jazz.

* * *

_Postscript: So, why does it take a death or tragedy for a law to be made, or a stoplight put up, or a change made? Humans are odd creatures._

_Thank you to the following for their reviews: Carmilla DeWinter, Independent.C., Syber Tyger, cmdrtekk, Blood Shifter 2, rubyxdragon, marleypup14, Jesus Luvs Everyone, Kaede Akira, Refracted Imagination, tsukimeushi, BitterSweetDrug, Aozoran, and Yami-Yugi3._


	4. Ghost

_**Part IV: Ghost **_

Jazz awakened to sounds and smells all too familiar: beeping machines, burnt wires, and soured energon. Even before his optics onlined, he knew he was in medbay. He groaned as the orange ceiling swam into focus, only to jump at the sight of Ratchet sitting by his berth.

"Welcome back." Ratchet crossed his arms and peered at him with a distinct frown.

"Uh-oh." Jazz cringed, preparing himself for a Ratchet Rant™. "I take it I was almost a ghost for real."

With a faint pop and hum, Mirage appeared by Ratchet's side, his body emerging from a series of laser grids. "The ghost is my costume for the party." He tilted up his chin. "I am the best suited for it. Find your own costume." He stalked away, a picture of haughtiness.

Jazz grinned. To anyone else, Mirage's behavior would seem cold and pretentious, but he knew it was a sign of just how worried Mirage had been for him. The spy usually avoided medbay unless Hound were hurt.

"Glitch," Ratchet muttered, "hiding his presence in my medbay that way!"

Jazz laughed. "Ya know how special ops are, Doc."

Ratchet snorted. "Don't even start with me. I've already been nagged senseless by Prowl."

"Prowl?" Jazz started to sit up, but a sharp pain in his chassis stopped him.

"Don't move." Ratchet smirked. "And yeah, Prowl. Couldn't get the fragger to leave your side. Had to have Ironhide haul him out so he'd refuel and recharge."

A sharp energy spike shot through Jazz's systems in his surprise and excitement. "R-really?" Prowl always checked on him when he was in medbay, but he'd never refused to leave his side before.

"Really." Ratchet stood and gestured to the door. "Speaking of the slagger . . ." He shook his head and walked away grumbling.

Jazz immediately looked to the door and grinned when he saw his friend approaching. "Prowler!"

"It's good to see you awake." He settled in the chair Ratchet had vacated, his doorwings lifted regally and his hands clasped in his lap. "Ratchet had to replace your entire front bumper."

Jazz pressed one hand to his chassis. "Oh." Suddenly everyone's concern made sense. "I almost took a spark injury, huh?"

"Let's just say Ratchet has been in an extraordinarily foul mood." Prowl sighed. "Given what's happened, I'm afraid this upcoming celebration of ghosts and death has lost its glamour for me. In the middle of a war, death is all we have. I see nothing to celebrate."

Jazz smiled at him softly, touched by his care and anguish. "I'm not sure that's the humans' goal, but if it makes ya uncomfortable, ya don't have to come to the party." As much as he wanted to spend time with Prowl, Jazz loved him too much to force him into anything. In his view, love wasn't love if he put himself first.

"I said I'll come, so I will." Prowl stood. "Perhaps we can generate an alternative to my staying very long, though."

Jazz grinned, relieved to know Prowl wanted to spend time with him even if he were leaving the party early. "Thinkin' outside the box is my specialty."

"Indeed." Prowl gently pressed a warm hand to Jazz's forehead. "Now rest, or you won't recover in time for Halloween."

Jazz stared after him as he left, too shocked to reply. Something had changed while he was unconscious, but he wasn't sure what.

Something _big_.

oOoOo

After leaving medbay, Prowl headed for Optimus' office, not seeing the orange walls he passed. While he'd kept watch over Jazz, Prowl had resolved to ask Optimus his opinion of having his top two officers involved. Surely the bearer of the Matrix knew better than he the wisdom of Jazz and him becoming lovers.

Feeling determined, he stopped before his commander's door, inhaled through his intakes deeply to try to calm his racing systems, and buzzed the door's comm.

"Come in."

Prowl stepped through the door as it opened and inclined his head in greeting. "Sorry to bother you, sir."

"Not at all." Prime gestured to the chair in front of his desk.

Sitting stiffly, Prowl held his doorwings high. "I'm afraid I need to ask you a personal question concerning myself and . . . Jazz."

Optimus looked patently unsurprised. "Proceed."

Prowl shifted faintly, clasping and then unclasping his hands in his lap. "It has come to my attention that Jazz . . . has feelings for me. And I . . . return those feelings. However, Megatron could exploit our feelings, on or off the battlefield, and if we ever bonded, there would be the increased risk of our both dying if one were killed. In short, the decision is likely to cause a tactical disadvantage. What would you have us do? I don't wish to endanger the Autobots."

Leaning back in his chair, Optimus crossed his arms over his chest. "I have considered the issue from all angles. We faced this when Ironhide and Chromia became involved, and we decided then that life should continue as normally as possible. If we cannot love and bond, even with the war still in progress, then the 'Cons have already won by taking from us something we hold precious."

"I . . . see." Just as Prowl expected, Prime had the wisdom to know what to do. "So you grant us permission?" He felt the tension easing from the various cables in his frame.

"Certainly." Optimus' optics shone. "I just want you two to be happy."

Prowl stood and bowed faintly. "Thank you, sir." He excused himself, feeling strangely excited, and began considering when to make his feelings known to Jazz.

_The Halloween party, _he thought with a faint smile. _After the party, I will reveal that I'm equally interested in him._

A warm tingle buzzed in his spark, and Prowl pressed one hand to his chest, amazed by the amount of joy he felt.

Love was strange.

* * *

_Postscript: Wow, sticking to 1000 words or less really makes you move and compress. Still, I'm enjoying this challenge ridiculously much. Mirage's choice of costume was inspired by TwoTenJack's picture of Mirage and Powerglide._

_More coming! I've decided to do all 13 prompts now, and I have 11 done._

_Thank you to the following for the wonderful reviews: _

_ OrianPrime92, Syber Tyger, marleypup14, Refracted Imagination, Aozoran, rubyxdragon, Kaede Akira, HURRICANEHannah, Yami-Yugi3, curse-of-the-cat, Jesus Luvs Everyone, and thepheonixqueen._


	5. Treat

_**Part V: Treat**_

So much for Halloween.

Dragging his weary chassis to his quarters, Jazz sighed, an unusual depression settling over him. Despite the cheery, orange walls and the mechs smiling at him as he passed, his dark mood didn't abate. Instead, he grew more sullen as the sounds of laughter from the rec room jarred his audios: his party that he wasn't attending was in full swing. This was _not_ the evening he'd planned.

As Prime had warned, Jazz had been sent on a mission. Unfortunately, a battle with Soundwave and his cassettes had erupted in a small Oregon town, and Rumble had used his pile drivers on Main Street. A school bus loaded with children fell into the crevice, and Bumblebee and Mirage were shot in the chest and shoulder, respectively. In addition to his concern over his team, Jazz felt guilty for the thirteen children who'd been injured. This was exactly what Jazz tried to avoid: human casualties.

Punching the access code into his lockpad, Jazz stumbled inside, ordering his lights to their nighttime setting. A faint blue glow bloomed in the cabin, leaving his berth, desk, and couch in shadows. He wanted to play soothing music and fall into early recharge. However, once the glow illuminated his desk, his gaze fell on the tray sitting there.

"Someone's been in my room?" He couldn't help feeling shock. Optimus and Prowl were the only two with enough clearance to override his lock, and even they couldn't do so easily. Fearing their codes could be stolen, Jazz had built in fail-safes that forced them to solve a highly complex pattern before the lock accepted the input-a puzzle that only a master tactician or the Matrix-bearer could solve. They tolerated it only because Jazz's paranoia was infamous, and it meant anyone who went to the trouble of leaving him a present had to _really_ want to.

Or be very, very patient.

"Prowl," Jazz concluded, and with the first smile of his excruciating orn, he walked over and analyzed the tray's contents. A plate of pink energon confections met his inspection, each one shaped like a vehicle. Jazz immediately spied a Porsche and a Datsun, as well as a semi, an ambulance, and two Lamborghinis. He chuckled, picking up the semi-shaped one and smelling it _just in case_ before eating it. The sweet energon cookie seemed to melt on his glossa. "I can't believe ya made these," he murmured to his absent friend, but he knew Prowl had. The vehicle shapes were traditional and classic, two things Prowl valued implicitly, and it was obvious that great patience and perfectionism had gone into shaping each one.

Jazz's gaze slid from the plate to the goblet of energon to the side. Smiling again, he picked up the cup and sniffed the contents. "High-grade!" He stared at the violet contents, surprised Prowl owned high-grade then set down the goblet, realizing his friend had predicted his bad mood and taken measures to counteract it. It was perfectly strategic. Utterly practical, too, since as the unofficial morale officer, Jazz's bad moods infected most everyone. And yet great care had gone into the 'plan's' execution.

Momentarily, Jazz's love for Prowl overwhelmed him until he could neither move nor think. All he wanted was to run to Prowl, envelop him in a hug, and confess his feelings, especially after learning Prowl had stayed by his side in medbay.

Pulling several draughts of air through his intakes, Jazz steadied himself and grabbed the tray. No way was he eating his treats alone. With renewed determination, he crossed the hall and buzzed Prowl's door.

"Enter," came the even voice.

The door triggered open, and Jazz swept inside. Finding Prowl reclining on his couch, reading a novel on a datapad, he plunked the tray on the center table and sat by him.

Prowl glanced at the tray, then raised one optic ridge. "They're for you," he said. "I know you were excited about today, only to have it ruined."

"But it's no fun eatin' 'em alone," Jazz replied with a small smile. His smile grew wobbly, and he turned his gaze to the tray. Prowl was always thoughtful and courteous with him, but his extreme dedication to the Autobot cause usually kept him too busy to 'hang out' often. His overwhelming if simple show of care left Jazz feeling undone. "Thank ya," he whispered.

Leaning closer, Prowl squeezed his forearm. "Jazz . . . I'm sorry. You try so hard to be cheerful for us, but who takes care of you?"

"Apparently you do." Jazz couldn't hold it in anymore. He flung himself at Prowl, tackling him in a hug that threw them back against the couch. He buried his face in Prowl's neck and shuddered as his spark seemed to scream out his love. However, he couldn't bear to ruin their friendship if Prowl didn't reciprocate.

Prowl returned his embrace and stroked his back. "I will if you'll let me. If you want me to."

The affection and the words, so unlike anything Prowl normally said, made Jazz's spark surge with painful hope. He sat up and met his gaze. This might be his only chance, he realized, and he wasn't going to let it slip away. "I do want ya to. And _I'll_ take care of _you_, too."

A soft smile bent up the corners of Prowl's mouth, and he leaned forward to brush his lips over Jazz's. "You already do."

_He knows,_ Jazz thought, stunned. _He feels the same!_ "Prowl . . ." He moved his hands to his cheeks, caressing Prowl's cheekseams with his thumbs, then pressed their lips together for a longer kiss. All his stress and fear bled away at the feel of Prowl's glossa slipping into his mouth, of being held tightly in his arms and feeling the passion building between them.

The universe could explode in Jazz's face, but if he had Prowl's love to turn to, he knew he could stand and fight again.

* * *

_Postscript: Gah! I needed more space to work with, but I'm at the limit. It'll have to go as is._

_Two more to come plus the "outtakes" (a.k.a, shorter scenes for the other prompts)._

_Thank you to the following for the continued and wonderful reviews: OrianPrime92, Syber Tyger, Refracted Imagination, marleypup14, Sergeant Duck, Jesus Luvs Everyone, Kaede Akira, Beregond5, tsukimeushi, curse-of-the-cat, and HURRICANEHannah._


	6. Spider Webs

_**Part VI: Spider Webs **_

_One Year Later_

From his position in the corner, Jazz watched Prowl sweep into the rec room, his crimson cape billowing behind him, and survey the party. Hound had been plotting with him to use holograms to frighten 'bots, but at the sight of an extraordinarily handsome Prowl wearing a regal cape, Jazz's attention snapped fully to his love. Prowl was scrutinizing the decorations and ignoring the sudden murmur from the party-goers, who had noticed he was _actually wearing a costume._ Sort of. All Jazz had optics for, though, was the strong set of Prowl's shoulders under the cape's folds, which hung gracefully between his doorwings.

"Autobot Command to Jazz," Hound said. "You there?"

Jazz jerked his attention back to Hound. "Uh, yeah! Sorry about that, man." He tried to collect his thoughts. "I think ya have a great idea. Between Mirage and you, we should get some good scares."

"Okay." Hound chuckled and patted his shoulder. "Now go be with Prowl."

Mirage emerged from a mass of blue laser grids, right at Hound's elbow. "You two are sickening." He smirked, but his optics shone with amusement. "When are you going to bond and be done with it?"

Jazz ducked his head, feeling uncharacteristically shy. "Well, uh . . ." He sighed, still finding the thought of literally giving half his spark to another mech to be daunting. They had discussed the possibility only in a future-tense, abstract sense. "Probably about the same time ya two do." He slanted a glance at them.

Mirage abruptly vanished again, and Hound began sputtering.

Leaving them to each other, Jazz double-checked his own costume-a sequined, black tux and top hat, his acknowledgement of jazz musicians-and, assured he looked his best, crossed the room, joining the mech who never failed to make him smile. "Do ya like the décor this year?"

Prowl glanced at him, one corner of his mouth bending into a gentle half-grin. "I think the various pictures from Earth horror movies are a nice touch." He gestured to the impromptu paintings Sunstreaker had done of scenes from _Poltergeist, Nightmare on Elm Street_ and _The Rocky Horror Picture Show._

"Yeah, he did an awesome job." Jazz glanced briefly at Sunstreaker, who was basking in the praise of his comrades.

Prowl pointed to the masses of cotton string pinned in the room's corners and between the paintings. "I don't understand what this is supposed to be, though."

Jazz grinned. "Spider webs."

"Spiders are scary?" Prowl's right optic ridge rose into its I-know-I'm-going-to-hear-something-illogical position.

Jazz could only laugh. "For some humans, apparently."

Prowl shook his head, and Jazz linked their arms together, pulling him further into the room. "Want me ta get ya some high-grade?" He stopped by the table of energon confections. "Or 'candy'?"

"I'm fine." Prowl nodded toward the dance floor. "You know how low my tolerance is for parties. Shall we skip straight to the dancing?"

"Sure." Jazz smiled and headed to the center of the room, where several couples already danced.

Prowl had purposefully arrived to the party two joors late, giving Jazz time to socialize, but he'd promised him plenty of dancing. So Prowl pulled Jazz into his arms, easily moving in time with the slow music. Jazz squeezed the hand holding his and rested his arm on Prowl's shoulders as they held each other close. The soft glow of yellow lights, set to mimic candlelight, illuminated the dance floor but left the corners shadowed.

"Thank ya for comin'," Jazz whispered, his spark warming at their simple touches even after a stellar cycle.

Prowl brushed his lips across his cheek. "It's a minor price to pay for your happiness," he murmured.

For someone so serious and logical, Prowl had a way of melting Jazz's circuits. Then again, he always had. Jazz stole a quick kiss, then lost himself both in the music and in Prowl's arms. As one song bled into another, he caught several smiles aimed their way, along with a nod of approval from Optimus, and wondered briefly at his own fear. Why was he afraid of bonding to Prowl when he already planned to spend the rest of his life with him? Would a bond make so much difference?

Jazz met Prowl's gaze, which shone with quiet adoration, and had to restrain himself from drawing Prowl into a deep kiss. _Funny,_ he thought, _that Prowl, who was so reluctant to acknowledge our feelings and start a relationship, would be so unfazed by long-term commitment, while I'm freaking out._

"Shall we rest a bit?" Prowl asked as the song ended.

Jazz snapped out of his daze, realizing that they'd danced ten songs in a row. "Sure."

Prowl released him only to take his hand and lead him from the room. "It's growing rather hot and stuffy."

"Probably because of all the barely-restrained _amour._" Jazz chuckled, but he hardly protested as Prowl pulled him outside. They picked a grassy spot with a clear view of the sky and for several kliks simply stared at the stars twinkling blue, yellow, and red. Prowl had settled against a bolder after situating his doorwings, and Jazz curled up against him, loving the feel of his warm arms around him in contrast to the cool night. Near them, a spider spun a real web, shining and delicate-looking in the moonlight, and in the distance coyotes called to one another.

After a breem, Prowl stirred and spoke. "We began our relationship on Halloween last stellar cycle."

"Um-hm." Jazz folded his hands over Prowl's on his waist.

"So maybe it's fitting that I should ask this now: will you bond with me?" Prowl's voice was soft, quiet.

"T'night?"

"Tonight."

Jazz pulled away and turned to stare at Prowl, having not expected such boldness or such timing. Suddenly the future and the abstract were present and concrete. "Prowl . . ."

His voice seemed to carry on the wind.

* * *

_Postscript: Yes, one genuine cliffhanger. One more chapterlet plus the "outtakes."_

_By request, a translation: "amour" means love._

_Thank you to the following for yet more lovely reviews (love you guys): Beregond5, The lunatic who cares, Syber Tyger, Refracted Imagination, Yami-Yugi3, curse-of-the-cat, Jesus Luvs Everyone, OrianPrime92, marleypup14, Sergeant Duck, Carmilla DeWinter, Independent.C., tsukimeushi, HURRICANEHannah, and Kaeda Akira._


	7. Crescent Moon, M rating

_**A/N: Story rating is now M.**_

_**

* * *

  
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_**Part VII: Crescent Moon**_

Jazz stared at Prowl, stunned by his question. "Spark bond . . . tonight?" he repeated, trying to drive the concept through his own processor.

Prowl nodded but didn't speak. Faintly, the thudding of a bass line escaped outside from the party's sound system, filling the uneasy silence between them. A cool breeze whipped over Jazz's armor, making him shiver, and he clambered to his feet. Below them in the forest, the black shapes of trees swayed in the wind, and the light from the crescent moon lit the path to the Ark in a dim but sharp silver glow.

The irony was almost sickening, Jazz thought, that he should face his fear on Halloween. "If one of us dies, the other pro'bly will also. I suppose that's always an issue, but obviously it's more of one in the middle of a war."

Prowl stood as well, walking up behind him but not touching him. "I've considered that. So has Prime, for the record. I agree with his assessment: we should not let the Decepticons or the fear of what they represent stop us from our way of life. From _living._"

Their earlier conversations had never delved into the cold, hard truths. Jazz sighed. "And you, with yer unparalleled logic and tactical supremacy, have come to terms with that?"

A hand lightly gripped his shoulder. "Yes, I have. I have no illusions as to what it means or could mean. But I also have decided the pros outweigh the cons. I want you to _feel_ my love for you directly; I want to feel yours as well."

"It doesn't scare ya?" Jazz finally turned toward him, only to find himself unable to meet his gaze. "The thought of handin' over control of half yer spark?"

Prowl pulled him into a loose embrace. "No, Jazz. Because I'm giving it to you, and I know you won't hurt me."

Resting his head against Prowl's shoulder, Jazz tried to calm himself, only to find he was trembling faintly. Trusting mechs on the battlefield, he understood. Getting his team to trust each other implicitly, he required. Handing over part of himself forever . . .

_But why should I be afraid?_ he wondered. Part of the reason he loved Prowl was because he was utterly predictable. Brilliant, complex, and able to follow the flow of a battle, but still distinctly predictable. In any situation, he would proceed logically, choose the most logical answer, and balk at illogic. He attended to the smallest details of running an army, always guarding the institution itself, while Optimus kept his optics both on the overall picture and on individual mechs. Jazz could always count on Prowl to listen attentively and be honest to a fault, and he was loyal and hardworking almost to the exclusion of all else-

Except Jazz himself.

Thinking over the past stellar cycle, Jazz realized that Prowl had never shortchanged him in their relationship unless they had to mutually forfeit time in an emergency. Prowl had written 'personal time with Jazz' into his daily schedule quite literally and attended to him during that time with the same attentiveness and loyalty he gave The Cause. And being Prowl, predictable and routine, he'd never cease to do so. He'd made Jazz a permanent fixture in his life.

Jazz loved change, loved new experiences, but he was himself-random, wild, and experimental-because there was a stability in his life that grounded him. And for countless vorns, he'd known that stability was Prowl.

Jazz's racing thoughts stilled, and he finally met Prowl's gaze with a smile. "Yer right," he murmured, then nodded to himself. "It's time. Let's bond."

The smile that bloomed across Prowl's face was so beautiful Jazz thought his spark would break. "Let's." Prowl stepped forward and gently tugged on Jazz, lowering him to the ground.

"Right here?" Jazz was stunned at Prowl's choice of venue, even if being outside under the stars and moonlight _did_ seem romantic.

"Everyone else is inside, mostly over-energized." Prowl grinned, drawing close for a kiss.

"True, but-mmph." Jazz surrendered to the kiss readily, encircling Prowl with his arms as he lay over him. Prowl teased his lips with his glossa, and Jazz opened his mouth, entwining their glossae together.

Prowl caressed down Jazz's sides as they kissed, brushing his fingertips over his hips before trailing back upwards to trace one headlight. Jazz moaned and responded by moving his hands to Prowl's doorwings and stroking them until they quivered. Slowly they teased each other, Prowl nibbling Jazz's neck or caressing a sensory horn and Jazz slipping his fingers into Prowl's door hinges or wheel wells, rubbing sensitive wires and nodes. Soon they were gasping each other's names, Jazz's thighs pressed tight to his lover's hips and his back bowed off the ground as Prowl licked up his grill.

Dragging himself up Jazz's body, Prowl paused as he parted his chestplates, folding back the armor and revealing his spark. The silvery light mixed with the moonlight to wash over Jazz, and he reached out, cupping the beautiful spark in his hand and stroking it. Arching into the touch, Prowl cried out sharply. Unable to hold back any longer, Jazz transformed his chest as well, baring his spark. The blue glow bathed Prowl's face, illuminating his expression of awe and love, and he reached out, running his hand over Jazz's spark in a long caress. Jazz gasped then moaned loudly at the wave of tingling heat that raced through his circuits at the touch.

Prowl withdrew his hand as tendrils of energy stretched from his spark toward Jazz's, and then they pulled their chests together, pressing close as their sparks reached into each other, mixing and trading energy, fusing themselves together. Suddenly Jazz could _feel_, as though they were his own, Prowl's passion, joy, and love, and they were one spark, a single consciousness.

They overloaded under the moonlight, crying out each other's names and bound together forever.

* * *

_Postscript: fastest smexin' ever. Didn't seem right if I didn't get them up to the bonded stage, though. ;)_

_If you think about it, spark bonding is, in a sense, supernatural in its own right: the sharing of 'souls.'_

_Anyway, much love and many thank yous to the following for reviews: OrianPrime92, Syber Tyger, tsukimeushi, marlypup14, curse-of-the-cat, Refracted Imagination, Jesus Luvs Everyone, Kaede Akira, and HURRICANEHannah._

_Also, thank you to everyone who faved!_


	8. Outtakes, other prompts

_A/N: _These are the remaining prompts. Each scene is set between two existing chapterlets.

* * *

_**Part VIII: 'Outtakes' **_

**Fog**, between "Pumpkins" and "Darkness":

Winding through the dense forest, Prowl found himself slowing considerably between the cloudy night, thick fog, and dirt road. "I see why Hound and Trailbreaker don't like this road at times," he said ruefully when his tires bounced over a pothole.

"Yeah, this is ridiculous," Jazz replied, easing up close to his back bumper. "Kinda spooky, though. Fits the season."

"Fog is spooky?" Prowl stopped to consider the horror movies the mechs had patched Teletraan I into. All of them seemed to be set at night, often with rain or fog. "I guess to humans, maybe."

Jazz nudged his bumper gently. "Hey, even for us. We're practically drivin' blind here. I'm thinkin' we're gonna have to use our GPS instead."

"Agreed." Prowl switched over, the map popping up in his HUD and showing him as a red dot. At his request, it displayed Jazz as well. "Remind me never to take this road on a foggy night again."

Jazz chuckled. "Oh, I dunno. I think I got a good view here."

"Jazz!" Prowl snorted to himself, realizing his friend was complimenting his aft. Jazz tended to make those odd comments, but Prowl couldn't figure out why. He was a bit of a flirt, granted, but Prowl had no idea why he was included on his friend's 'target' list. However, since it didn't bother him, he only ever offered a token protest.

His chassis began tingling suddenly, and with a scan, Prowl realized Jazz had magnetically tethered himself to his bumper. "Jazz?"

"I'll just sit back and let ya do the drivin'." Jazz sounded much amused. "It'll keep us together, too."

_'Keep us together,'_ Prowl mused, realizing the concept didn't bother him whatsoever. "I had you up on my GPS," he said, not really complaining. "I wasn't going to lose you."

"Good to know." Jazz's tone indicated he was either finding or implying layers of meaning in their conversation.

It was another piece to Prowl's Jazz-shaped puzzle.

* * *

**Orange**, between "Darkness" and "Graveyard":

Prowl glanced around the rec room, where Jazz, Blaster, Bumblebee, and the twins were hanging decorations. "Orange?" he asked, mystified by the banners and streamers. "Isn't the Ark orange enough already?"

Jazz laughed and grabbed a bag off the table. "We've got purple an' black ones, too." He grabbed a handful of streamers and tossed them at Prowl, who attempted to dodge. "Aw, ya look kinda cute that way."

Holding up his arms to stare at the streamers draped over his arms, Prowl raised one optic ridge at Jazz. "Please desist. I just now had my optics repaired and don't want to short them out again."

Jazz only laughed harder.

* * *

**Black Cat,** between "Graveyard" and "Ghost":

Prowl sat in the command center, uncaring of his odd choice of chairs, and waited for Optimus Prime to arrive. Ironhide and the twins were standing around him and staring at him in blatant shock.

"Are ya okay?" Ironhide asked.

Prowl gazed at him serenely, unconcerned with the growls emanating from his 'chair.' "Certainly. We've kept the intel from reaching the Decepticons, after all." He glanced down at Ravage, who was pinned to the floor under his weight. "Just awaiting Prime's decision on Ravage's fate." He hid his smile under his stoic mask, unwilling to compromise his reputation. Still . . . "He really does make a good chair," he added, unable to help himself.

"He's cracked," Sideswipe said, optics wide.

"It was bound to happen eventually." Sunstreaker shook his head in clear resignation.

Prowl had to swallow his laugh.

* * *

**Thirteen**, between "Ghost" and "Treat":

From the doorway, Prowl surveyed the fully decorated rec room. It seemed ironic that Jazz, who had spearheaded the party preparations, was now out on a special ops mission, but such was life during a war.

"What do you think?" Bumblebee asked, joining him in the doorway.

Prowl studied the oddities hanging on the walls or from the ceilings: thirteen plastic bats, thirteen ghosts, and thirteen black cats. A scan of the tables revealed thirteen jack-o-lanterns. "Why, may I ask, are there thirteen of each decoration?"

"Oh!" Bumblebee sounded rather bemused. "Apparently in America, the number thirteen is considered either unlucky or scary by a lot of people."

For an astrosecond, Prowl's control over his logic circuits was touch-and-go. He stayed very still until he was sure his battle computer wouldn't crash from the sheer random illogicalness of it all. "Oh." He decided pursuing that train of thought would earn him nothing more than a trip to Ratchet's domain.

Bumblebee shrugged. "I didn't say it made sense."

Prowl nodded his thanks and crossed the room to Sunstreaker, who watched his approach with suspicion.

"What?" he asked, barely civil.

"I have a request." Prowl suspected Jazz would _not_ be in a good mood by the time he returned, so he'd decided to contribute to their private party. He couldn't do things like make decorations or pick out 'good' music, but he did have one skill he'd learned from his creators. "By any chance do you have a confectioner's energon kit? And if so, may I borrow it this evening?"

Sunstreaker stared at him so long he seemed to have become a statue. "Sure, Prowl," he finally replied.

"Thank you." Prowl had hoped their resident artist had brought along more than his paints.

Sideswipe popped over and grinned at Prowl. "_You_ are going to make energon goodies?"

"I managed to learn the art reasonably well," he replied, then strolled from the room, leaving a gaggle of surprised and babbling 'bots behind him.

* * *

**Costumes**, set right before "Spider Webs":

Jazz nearly bounced into Prowl's office and grinned at him. "Prrrowlieee?"

Immediately on guard, Prowl glanced up at his love with great suspicion. Jazz never drew out one of his pet names for him unless he were planning something utterly diabolical. "Yes?"

Jazz whipped a small bundle from his subspace and shook it out. A long, flowing, crimson cape fanned outward from his hands. "I got ya a costume for the party!"

"_Slag,_ no." Prowl stood abruptly. "I'm _not_ wearing a costume."

"Please? Pretty please?" Jazz swooped around the desk and leaned close to Prowl. "It's just a cape, and a regal one at that. You'll look like royalty or somethin'."

Prowl found himself staring at Jazz's pouty lips instead of listening. "Hm?"

A beautiful grin spread across those lips. "I said it'll make ya look like royalty. In fact, I think it'll make ya look drop-dead handsome an' sexy."

"Um-hm." Prowl reached out, grasping Jazz's chin with his fingers. It was amazing how Jazz could derail him from his work. He drew them together until their lips met.

Jazz chuckled, breaking the kiss. "Uh, Prowler, we were talkin' about costumes here."

"Um-hm." Prowl slipped one arm around Jazz's waist, pulling him close.

" . . . which we can continue discussin' later," Jazz murmured, laying the cloak on the desk.

Prowl smiled and captured Jazz's mouth again, knowing he had the ability to derail his love as well.

* * *

**Trick**, after "Crescent Moon"

Prowl stood before the medbay's doors, staring at the dried yellow goo splattered across the metal. "_What_ is _that_?" he asked with a flash of déjà vu.

Looping his arm through Prowl's, Jazz leaned against his side. "_That_ is what happens if ya refuse to give out candy on Halloween."

Prowl suffered a moment's profound confusion. "But Ratchet was quite involved in the party last night, was he not?"

"Have ya ever known small details to stop Sideswipe?" Jazz grinned.

Prowl met his gaze. "No." He considered for a moment Ratchet's reaction to the mess. "I think the scariest thing we'll see, by far, will occur this morning."

"Good point." Jazz tugged on his arm. "Let's get outta here-fast."

The bondmates raced down the hallway, but no amount of distance saved them from hearing Ratchet's curses when he reported for his shift.

Trick, indeed.

* * *

_Postscript: And I made it-thirteen prompts written and posted in almost thirteen days. Now I'm off to read everyone else's challenge stories!_


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